by Miranda Lee
Cassie tipped up her chin and strode past him, dropping her holdall in a distant chair before whirling round to face him.
He was watching her closely. 'Far enough away for you?' he mocked. 'Shall I keep the door open as well?'
She said nothing. But her stomach muscles tightened as he swung the door shut. An impatient sigh betrayed his frustration.
'I won't hold you up now,' he said brusquely, moving to pick up the painting, which she hadn't noticed lying on top of a large desk, 'but I wanted you to have this.'
Cassie's mouth dropped open. Confusion and anger warred with an irrational pleasure. 'But why?' she blurted out before recovering. 'I... No, thank you. I don't want it. I won't take it!'
His face was annoyingly passive. 'Why not? You were bidding for it.'
She gulped down a gathering lump of panic. 'That doesn't mean I'll take it from you.'
'Why not?'
His persistence brought an agitated mutter. 'This is ridiculous!'
'Is there someone who would object to your taking a gift from me? A lover, perhaps?'
She glared at him. 'I don't have to answer your questions, Dan McKay!'
'No, you don't,' he said with maddening composure.
There was a short, sharp silence.
'I could well have a husband by now, for all you know,' she threw at him.
'But you don't, do you?'
She gasped. 'How do you know that? Have you been spying on me?'
She saw the surprise on his face and knew that she was over-reacting badly.
He walked over and picked up her hand. Her stomach somersaulted as his long, elegant fingers stroked her palm, her fingers. 'You're not wearing a ring,' he explained.
She snatched her hand away, but not before her breathing had gone absolutely haywire. 'I might have taken it off,' she argued breathlessly.
'And have you?' His black eyes were watchful.
She lifted her chin. 'No.'
'So there's no husband. What about lovers? Any of those around at the moment?'
Her blue eyes flashed angrily at his hounding of her private life. 'My having or not having a lover is none of your business.'
'I'm making it my business.'
She was shocked by the implication of his statement. 'My God!' she exclaimed. 'Do you honestly think you can come back here after all these years and take up where you left off?'
His eyes were giving her no peace. They were devouring her, yet telling her nothing.
'I didn't think anything, Cassie,' he said matter-of-factly. 'But when I saw you in there, bidding for my painting, I thought ‑'
'Thought what?' she cut in savagely. 'That I was buying it as a sentimental reminder of you?' She laughed—a harsh, cynical sound. 'You do have a colossal ego, don't you? I'll tell you why I wanted that painting of yours. Yes, it was as a reminder. A reminder of the mistake I made in loving and believing in a man like you! But now I don't need it, do I? I've seen you again, experienced at first hand another sample of your amazing sense of opportunity.' She glared at him in disgust. 'I can just imagine what you felt in there when you saw me bidding for your painting. An initial surprise, perhaps, but quickly followed by a smug satisfaction. An old flame, you would have thought, who hasn't forgotten the good times we once shared. She even wants my painting as a memento. What good luck! I wonder what would happen if I bought the painting and made a grand gesture of giving it to her. She would be bound to be grateful, maybe even very grateful...'
Cassie stopped, and let a mask of stone drop over her heated features. 'Isn't that how it was, Dan? Did I get anything wrong?'
He was staring at her with such a look of horror that for a moment Cassie wondered if she could indeed be wrong.
He shook his head. 'You couldn't be more wrong. I never intended to hurt you, Cassie. Not then...or now.'
His rich voice reverberated with such apparent sincerity that Cassie almost weakened. But she didn't. For this was Dan McKay speaking, she reminded herself coldly. Accomplished artist, lover, liar and adulterer!
'Hurt me?' she tossed off airily. 'Don't lose any sleep on my account. I'm well and truly over you now, believe me.'
He frowned at her, but said nothing. Cassie hated his silence. She remembered how when she'd posed for him hours had gone by without his saying a word. She had chattered away, telling him everything about herself, but he'd never reciprocated. It wasn't until he'd left her that she'd known why.
'What are you doing here, anyway?' she demanded. 'Riversbend is a long way from the bright lights of Sydney.'
When her tart words brought an assessing look from Dan, Cassie regretted asking. She hoped he wouldn't think she was interested in him, despite her outburst.
'A change is as good as a rest,' he said cryptically.
A prickle of apprehension darted up Cassie's spine. 'Oh?'
'I needed some fresh air.' He walked over to stare through the large window at the river below. 'I've always loved this place. When I found out it was on the market...'
Cassie's heart stopped. Surely he couldn't mean...?
He turned slowly, saw her widening eyes. 'I decided to buy it. Yes, Cassie, I'm the new owner of Strath-haven.'
CHAPTER THREE
Cassie went weak at the knees.
'I'll be your next-door neighbour,* Dan added, his hands slipping into his trouser pockets. 'That is...if you still live on the farm across the river.'
She didn't know what to say. The feeling of impending doom was overwhelming. It was all she could do to keep standing.
'I gather that idea doesn't find favour,' Dan said drily.
Cassie stared at him. 'You really o-own Strath-haven?' she stammered.
'You sound doubtful.'
'But how?' she blurted out. 'I mean...'
He gave her a sharp look. 'I've done well enough over the years.'
'But...but you're an artist. I was told that the new owner was a businessman!'
'Can't I be both?' His face softened for a moment. 'Look, Cassie, I'm not an artist by profession. Painting's a hobby of mine...a pastime.'
His admission swept all thought of Jason aside for the moment. All Cassie could think of was how little she'd known about Dan at the time of their affair, how little he had told her! It hurt terribly to be reminded of her foolish naïveté.
'Do forgive my stupidity,' she said tartly. 'A pastime... How quaint! Just as your models were pastimes?'
His sigh carried frustration. 'You know that's not true. And I never said I made my living as an artist.'
'You never said much at all, Dan,' she accused.
Silence descended. They looked at each other for several seconds, Cassie with bitter resentment, Dan with an undermining concern.
'Why are you so hostile, Cassie? After all this time.'
'Hostile, Dan? I'm not hostile. I'm merely saying a few of the things I never had the opportunity to say nine years ago. You did leave rather quickly.' Her glare held shivers of ice. 'But that's all water under the bridge, isn't it? The present is far more to the point. I gather you won't be living here permanently? This will be a weekender, or some such?'
Already she was devising a plan to protect herself and her son. Her mother and Roger were getting married soon. They could have the house across the river. She could move, to Roger's place in town maybe, or to another town altogether!
'I shall be travelling back and forth to Sydney,' he admitted slowly, 'but I had intended spending as much time here as I could.'
Her mind jumped on the way he'd said 'had intended'. She clutched at the straw. 'And you've changed your mind?'
'That depends.'
'On what?'
He shrugged. 'On a lot of things.' He gave her the oddest look. It was vaguely challenging. 'Meanwhile...don't you think we could at least be friends? After all, we will be neighbours. How about coming back when this auction is over? Have dinner with me this evening. You could advise me on what to buy for the house. I did keep the essentials in furniture,
but the rest will need a woman's touch.'
Cassie stared at him in utter astonishment. 'You don't give up easily, do you?'
'No.'
'I can't,' she said sharply. 'Sorry.'
'Can't or won't?'
'Both!'
'Why not?'
Cassie's head was whirling. Why not? God, if only he knew...
But he would know, she thought frantically, if he meant to really live here. Even if she moved, some day, someone would say something about Jason. And Dan would come looking for him.
Fear made her aggressive. 'I think your wife is a good reason for me not to come, don't you?'
There was no doubting his shock, but he recovered quickly. 'I see... So that's it. You found out.'
'The van Aarks were only too pleased to enlighten me.'
'And what exactly did they tell you?' he said angrily, and paced towards her. 'For pity's sake, Cassie, they didn't even know the whole truth.' His hands closed over her shoulders. 'They weren't close friends, just social acquaintances. God! Do you think I confided my private affairs to people like them?'
Cassie was crazily aware of the bruising fingers digging into her shoulders. Her breathing grew fast and shallow. Her face flushed. 'Let me go!' she gasped in a panic.
'No!' he snarled. 'Not till you've listened to the truth. I was separated from my wife when I came here to stay at the island. We were getting a divorce. I didn't mean to fall in love with you, dammit! But you were so lovely...so goddamned lovely. I convinced myself that I'd be content with painting you, being with you, listening to you give voice to your bright, sweet dreams for the future. What a fool I was to think that I wouldn't end up making love to you! But I did love you, Cassie, and I meant to marry you at the time. You have to believe that!'
Believe him? He expected her to believe him? Believing in Dan had been her greatest mistake.
She wrenched out of his hold with a violent twist. 'Save your breath, Dan,' she said savagely. 'You're wasting it on me.'
He visibly fought anger at her rejection of his plea.
'Something wrong, Dan?' she mocked. 'Your plans going awry?'
New resolve firmed his face. 'Cassie, I understand how bad it must have looked. I really do. And I can see how hurt you've been, but you must listen. My wife had an accident—a terrible accident. She ‑'
'I know about the accident,' she interrupted bluntly. 'The van Aarks told me that, too. But you didn't, Dan, when you sent me my "Dear John" letter. No mention of any accident. No mention of any wife. Shall I tell you what you said? Shall I remind you?'
His mouth clamped shut in thinly disguised frustration.
'"Dear Cassie,"' she went on in sharp, bitter tones. '"I hate having to write to you like this. I would much rather be able to see you personally. To explain. But it is best that I stay right away. You are young. You will forget me in time. And, I hope, forgive me. I want you to get on with your life, my darling girl. Be a wonderful veterinary surgeon, make some man a wonderful wife, some child a wonderful mother. My love always. Dan."'
She glared at him when she had finished, head held high, eyes smarting with the salt of unshed tears.
He looked appalled. 'You know it...off by heart?'
She turned away from his sight, unwilling to have him witness her distress. She heard him approach, felt his warm breath on the back of her neck. Her heart stopped when his hands closed gently over her shoulders.
'Oh, Cassie, Cassie,' he murmured in her hair. 'I didn't tell you about my wife in the letter because I thought it would only add to your hurt. She needed me in a way I didn't think I could adequately explain. It was far too complex.'
'But I needed you, Dan,' Cassie choked out, forgetting everything but the way he was enfolding her back against his chest, forgetting every...single...thing.
'I know...I know...' He was holding her tightly, his lips against her ear. 'But you were young and strong, my darling. You could cope... I had no option then. But I'm back now. Can't you see? I'm back...'
He turned her slowly, tilted up her chin. She caught her breath as his mouth descended.
His kiss was soft and tender...sweet. His thumb was tracing her jawline, a finger stroking the sensitive flesh of her throat.
Subtly, slowly, his mouth grew more insistent, his tongue probing at her hypnotised lips. They parted slightly, allowing him entry, then further and further. Fire ignited along her veins, and before she knew it she was kissing him back with all the fervour of passions that had been buried for nine lonely years. This was the man she had once loved. This was the man who ‑
'My God!'
She wrenched herself out of his arms, shocked and shaking.
'My God!' she repeated, chest heaving, eyes awash.
'Cassie, I...'He reached for her.
'Don't!' she sobbed. 'Don't touch me! Don't say a word.'
He didn't do either. But he was clearly upset.
And why wouldn't he be? Cassie thought with bitter fury as she struggled to get control of herself. For a moment there he must have thought he'd struck the jackpot! Only back at Riversbend for an hour and, with a few half-truths smoothly delivered, he already had a willing bedmate in his clutches.
The glaring facts catapulted into her brain. He'd run into her by sheer coincidence at the auction. He certainly hadn't come back for her. He hadn't even known till he'd seen her hand whether she was married or not. In nine years she could very well have moved away somewhere; Or died! And as for that pathetic excuse about his wife not being able to cope...
Oh, God! His wife! And what about children? Had the marriage produced children? She hated the very thought, but she had to find out.
Her eyes slashed at him. 'What about your wife? Your children?' she demanded, heart racing.
'I have no children,' came the brusque reply.
Cassie swallowed. 'And your wife? Where's she? Will she be living here with you?'
'No.'
'Another convenient separation?'
'No.'
'What, then?'
His face was grim. 'My wife...is dead.'
Cassie was rocked, as much by the announcement as by an unwanted sympathy for Dan. He sounded so...desolate.
'When?' she rasped.
'Just over a year ago.'
Any sympathy vanished. 'A year ago,' she repeated flatly. Twelve whole months. Fifty-two weeks. Three hundred and sixty-five days. More than enough time to contact her... If he truly cared. It was the final nail in his coffin. 'I see,' she said in a flat, lifeless voice.
'You don't see at all!' Dan growled. 'You've taken everything the wrong way. You don't believe I still care about you!'
'No,' she stated with cruel honesty. 'I don't.'
'Hell!' He raked his hands through his hair, disturbing the veneer of polished elegance. The dishevelled waves reminded her of the Dan she had first met—the slightly messy, struggling artist. Or so she had believed at the time.
But it had all been an act, a game, a fantasy.
Cassie turned away. She didn't want to be reminded of the past. She had been such a little fool then. She had no intention of being one again.
Suddenly, she remembered and looked at her watch. After five... If she wasn't home soon her mother would be sure to come looking for her.
'I have to go,' she said brusquely, and moved towards the door.
Dan was there before her. He opened it, but barred her exit. 'No. Let's get it all straight between us, Cassie. There's too much that's been left unexplained.'
Her eyes were hard. 'You're too late, Dan. Get out of my way.'
He glared at her for a moment, then stepped aside. 'I won't let it finish like this, Cassie,' he said as she walked past him. 'You must know that.'
She stopped and eyed him fiercely over her shoulder. 'And you must know, Dan, that I'm a grown woman now. I have a mind of my own. No one, least of all you, forces me to do anything!'
She set her jaw, suddenly determined to act out her strong words. She would not
run away. She would not move. If and when Dan found out about Jason, she would deal with it. He might not discover the boy's existence for ages. He might even quit Strath-haven before doing so.
Dan was watching her with a reproachful expression. 'You've grown hard, Cassie.'
'No, Dan, just wise...wise to men like you.'
'I'm not what you think.'
Her smile was cold. 'Goodbye, Dan. Live here if you must, but don't cross that bridge. Don't try to see me.'
'And if I do?'
She swept on, away from his veiled threat, away from her treacherous responses. She should never have let him kiss her. Never! But, oh...the pleasure his lips evoked, the desire his touch uncurled.
She stuffed a fist in her mouth to stifle her moan of dismay and hurried on, down the hall, past the noisy auction-room, out into the bright, bright sunshine, there to grind to a horrified halt.
Her mother was coming across the suspension bridge. And running ahead, up the hill, through the hedge, his legs going like pistons, his hair flying, was Jason.
A noise behind her had Cassie whirling.
It was Dan, holding her denim bag. 'You forgot this,' he said.
Stricken, she didn't know where to turn, where to look.
'Mum! Mum!' Jason called as he raced up the stairs to meet her.
CHAPTER FOUR
Cassie heard Dan's sharp intake of breath. When he stepped forward to be level with her, a swift glance verified his utter shock.
Her eyes flew back to her son, travelling anxiously over his slight figure as he bounced up on to the veranda. Jason was not overly big for his age, so there was some hope that Dan would not put two and two together.
But it was a slim hope. She only had to look frankly at the boy to know that Dan wouldn't be fooled for long. He might not be an artist by profession, but he had an artist's keen observation, and while Jason's hair was mid-brown and quite straight, not at all like Dan's thick black waves, the eyes were a dead giveaway. They were jet black, deep-set and piercing. The exact image of his father's.
Jason reached the veranda, coming to an untidy halt in front of her. 'We won, Mum. We won! Isn't that terrific? And guess what—next week I'm going to have a go as wicket-keeper.'